The Heist: Chapter 4 - Rendezvous
by jcoates
Summary: The team have escaped London by the skin of their teeth. Now they're lying low, trying to figure out what their next move will be. Spirits are high, and Nick is faced with a new problem. What to do about Jay Valen?


**Rendezvous**

The three men entered the pub to find Jay already waiting for them. She was sitting up at the bar, dressed in her motorcycle leathers, sipping on a cranberry and lime, her helmet resting on the stool next to her.

_The Plough_'s other patrons – a decent collection of farmer looking types – turned away from their pints long enough to give the newcomers a good appraisal (no doubt making sure that their wives hadn't caught them in the midst of an extended lunch break) before turning back to their glasses.

Nick nodded affably at a particularly beady eyed fellow, an old bloke with eyebrows as thick as hedgerows and an impressive abundance of ear hair to match, before leading the way across the tap-room and depositing himself in a stool next to his Norwegian associate. Baggo and the Driver followed suit.

'Any problems?' he asked, without turning his head.

'Please,' she replied, turning those luminous blue, cat-like eyes towards him, 'would I be sitting here if there had been?'

'True.'

'How about you guys? Any hiccups your end?'

Nick coughed in a non-committal sort of way. To his annoyance Baggo chipped in.

'Well,' he said, casually, 'robbing the place was a breeze.' He paused for dramatic effect, inspecting his nails. Nick wanted to hit him. 'Then, old Nicky boy over here, drops his gun, loses the two-block-hostage and lets a couple of shots fly at a copper.'

Jay arched an eyebrow and looked at Nick.

'Keep your voice down, Baggo,' Nick warned, leaning in. 'And it wasn't like I was trying to hit the cop.'

'Anyway,' Baggo continued in a low voice, keeping a wary eye on Nick, 'then the second car gets written off by some drunken idiot outside a pub and we get chased buy a mob of furious Tottenham supporters, who Nick ends up scaring off with another couple of warning shots, would you believe.'

'Necessary only because _you_ knocked out one of their boyfriends,' Nick supplied.

Baggo shrugged guiltily and winked at Jay. 'What can I say? I'm a dangerous man.'

All four of them laughed.

'So you've heard nothing of the police?' Jay asked as she finished her drink.

'My old man hasn't contacted me,' Nick said.

From his place between Jay and the Driver, Baggo said, 'Well, then, drink is it?'

'I'd say we've all earned one,' Nick agreed, 'even you, Baggo.'

'I'll get 'em in then shall I?' Baggo volunteered. 'Pint of cider for you, Driver?'

The big man nodded.

'Pint, Nick?'

'I think I'll start with a scotch actually.'

'I think I'll join you in that. Miss Valen?'

Jay shook her empty glass. 'Vodka, cranberry and lime, please, Mr Baggery.'

Baggo strolled off towards the other end of the bar where the owner was busy reading the paper.

'So, all in all, it went well?' Jay asked, leaning on the bar and resting her chin in her hand.

Nick glanced at the Driver who pulled a face as if to say, 'All in all…'

'Yeah,' Nick said. He smiled at her. 'I think we'll be alright.'

She smiled back and put her hand on his forearm. The three lapsed into silence.

'Right!' Baggo exclaimed happily, squeezing in between Nick and Jay. 'A pint of alcoholic apple juice for Captain Large.' He handed the glass of cider to the Driver who thanked him with a roll of the eyes. 'Vodka, cranberry and lime for you,' he passed Jay her drink. 'And a whiskey for you, Nick, and a whiskey _pour moi_.'

Nick raised his glass. 'Well done, everyone. I'm sure there are more poetical and fitting words for accomplishing a job of such magnitude, but I'll be fucked if I know what they are.'

'Beautifully put, Nicholas,' Jay laughed, raising her glass.

'Hear, hear,' Baggo said. He drained his glass and subsided instantly into a fit of coughing.

The Driver beamed at Nick and slapped Baggo so hard on the back that he fell sideways off his stool.

'Seeing as you're up, you might as well get another round in, Baggo,' Nick said when he could manage it, and the lot of them burst into laughter again.

Baggo did get another round in, and another, and another, and more.

There was no place that any of the crew wanted to go, no where that they would rather have been, than right there, revelling in victory over the authorities, basking in each other's sense of accomplishment and the shared sensation of being on the cusp of a new life full of opportunities and freedom that had previously been unattainable. They were four friends, staying in a country pub, drinking in a country pub, laughing and enjoying themselves in a country pub. After a day in the city, fleeing police and angry football hooligans, with the knowledge of a long spell behind bars if they got caught lurking at their back of their minds like an ugly monster in a closet, it was perfection.

All the other customers had long gone. Only the man with hedgerow eyebrows had remained and, after Baggo had assured him of his good intentions by buying the old fellow a couple of glasses of the best scotch the little pub had to offer, was busy lecturing Nick's friend on the best way of rearing pigs.

Jay was playing pool with the Driver, a table of shot glasses next to them, half filled with a brown spirit the other half filled with a clear one. Nick watched as the Driver accidentally sank one of Jay's balls.

'Ha!' she yelled, 'that's two!'

The Driver made his way carefully around the table, only putting his hand out a couple of times to steady himself, picked up a shot glass between his sausage-like fingers and snapped it back. He followed suit with another a second later, let out a liquid sounding belch and grimaced.

'What are you feeding him?' Nick called from the bar.

'Rum,' Jay replied.

That's his favourite. Isn't that right Driver?' he asked brightly.

The huge tweed covered man gave him the finger.

'He's probably letting you win, he loves it so much,' Nick grinned.

'That's good,' Jay said, bending over – Nick had no hope in hell of turning his eyes away from the sight of her in leather trousers – and taking aim, 'because he's about to get another one.' She sliced the cue ball dreadfully. The driver guffawed and held out a clear shot for her.

'Hold on, Driver!' Nick said 'I have a feeling…' The cue ball had bounced off the opposite cushion and spun into one of Jay's balls. Slowly – irresistibly – it rolled into a corner pocket.

'Trick shot,' Nick said, trying to keep a straight face at the crestfallen look on the Driver's, as he applauded. 'No doubt you intended that.'

'Of course, that's the way we do it in Norway, baby,' she purred. She took the clear shot out of the Driver's hand and replaced it with a shot of rum. He looked at it morosely.

'Cheer up,' Jay said, patting his broad shoulder, 'I'll have one with you to soften the blow.' She tossed back the drink, wincing, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

'No rum for you?' Nick asked, walking over.

'Rum makes my head spin,' Jay said.

Nick took a clear shot from the table and knocked it back. 'And what does vodka do?'

She cocked her head sideways, that little habit of hers that he had unconsciously come to find so endearing, and regarded him with a bright, x-ray stare. 'Vodka does something totally different.'

For lack of anything to contribute to this interesting statement, Nick gulped down another shot, spilling it down his chin. Jay stepped into him and wiped away the vodka that had left a track down his chin with her thumb. Her hand lingered for a second on his cheek.

'Would you mind getting me something to wash away all the vodka?'

'Sure.'

How was it that he could point a pistol into someone's face and his hand remained steady? Whereas a single touch from this woman sent currents of electricity across the surface of his entire body.

Jay smiled. 'I'll just go finish off the big baby. I won't be long.'

_And then?_ Nick wanted to ask her.

Instead he went off to the bar, frowning slightly as his brain – steeping nicely in its whiskey marinade – tried to make sense of what was going on with regards to Jay Valen.

Nick left Jay's drink on the edge of the pool table. She only had the black ball to sink whereas her opponent had the black ball plus two of his own to go.

'You realise you're losing don't you, big man?' He paused for effect. 'To a girl…'

Jay threw an ice cube at him. 'Watch it, buddy!'

Nick put up his hands in submission. As Jay turned away he looked at the Driver and shook his head disappointedly behind her back. 'Limp-dick,' he mouthed silently and waggled his finger. The Driver just shook his head, looking a bit worse for wear.

It was a wonder how inanimate objects became so hard to negotiate after a few drinks, Nick thought as he stumbled over yet another chair. He sidled up to the table where Baggo was lounging, still being lectured by the old farmer. The old chap was still jabbering away, Baggo opposite him, slumped in his chair.

'Baggo, cigarette break?' Nick asked, coming up behind his friend and tapping him on the shoulder. There was no response. Nick squinted down into Baggo's face.

'You realise this man is asleep,' Nick informed the old farmer.

'O' course I know he's asleep. I'm no idiot, son. Are you callin' me an idiot?'

Nick picked up Baggo's lighter from the table. 'What are you still doing talking to him, then?'

'Ah, it's just nice to have someone to yarn to, you know.'

'Right…'

The silence was punctuated with a snore from the unconscious Tom Baggery.

'He said he was interested in setting up a little farm or some such, told me he'd come into some money or something of the like,' the old man replied defensively.

'Course he did.' Nick paused and fiddled with his cigarette packet. 'I'll, ah, leave you to it then.'

He made his way through the pub and stumbled out through the door, spilling his fresh drink only a little as he jogged his elbow on the door handle. Outside the air was cool. It helped somewhat (somewhat, but not a lot) to clear his head. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and inhaling the subtle, intoxicating scents of the countryside.

_You did it_.

We _did it_.

_Yes we did_.

Nick sat down heavily on a picnic table that squatted on the patch of grass outside the front of the pub. He was slightly gratified to learn that not all of his coordination had been erased as he flopped down onto the hard wooden surface.

He pulled out a smoke and, after a brief period of practising his concert lighter waving skills as if he was at Elton John gig, managed to find the end and ignite it. He breathed in deeply and contentedly, tipped his head back and looked up at the sky. The stars reminded him of the precious stones that were probably sitting upstairs, hidden away in Jay's room.

Nick sat for a while just thinking. Thinking the thoughts that men think when they are alone at night, with a head full of booze, in a quiet place. He sucked occasionally on his cigarette while scattered and arbitrary thoughts blinked on and off through his mind, thoughts of Naomi, of how it had been when she was alive and of how it might have been now. Flashes of childhood memories followed by more recent images of his mum and dad, his mother's funeral, his dad crying and crying, the scariest and most disturbing thing Nick had ever seen. Polaroid snaps of his life, of his criminal career, chased each other through his brain, popping up in front of his eyes before whipping away again to be replaced by the next. And all the while there were remembered feelings, shadows of the emotions that he had felt at those times - heartbreak, joy, adrenaline-fuelled excitement, relief, trepidation, hopelessness - playing like an underlying soundtrack to his life. A knot formed in his stomach as Jay swam into his mind's eye.

_Just how _do _you feel about her_? Nick asked himself as he threw away the butt of his cigarette and fumbled in his pack for another.

And he answered himself, drunkenly – and truthfully.

_You're scared_.

He snorted and cupped his hands against the slight breeze as he lit up another smoke.

_Jay… Jay Valen… Miss Valen… the beautiful, Norwegian Miss Valen…._

'Hey, fancy some company?' a voice asked. A soft, warm voice, one that Nick could identify immediately.

He turned and saw Jay, now attired in Baggo's hoody, peeking out of the front door of the pub. _Speak of the Devil_, he thought. 'Only if the company is a certified pool champion,' he replied.

Jay raised her arms over her head and did a little victory dance. 'You're looking at one, sir.'

Nick laughed and patted the table he was sitting on. 'You better take a seat then, although I warn you, there's only so long that I can act normally before I'll start bugging you for an autograph.'

'You're not impressed?' she asked.

'Well, the Driver's an amateur, darlin',' he mocked.

'Hm, well I guess, _darlin_', that me and you will have to have a game so I can put you in your place.'

'Shit, what makes you think I'd waste my time.'

She punched him on the arm. 'Can I have one of those?' she asked pointing at his cigarette.

'My, you're not intoxicated are you, Miss Valen? I've never known you to smoke.' He handed her the cigarette in his hand.

The young woman took it between her pale fingers. 'Don't tell my mum.'

'And here I was thinking you were all proper.' Nick lit another smoke for himself.

Jay looked at him out of the corner of her eye. 'What ever gave you the idea that I was proper?'

Nick looked at her square on. 'Excellent point, what the hell was I thinking? Interpretations, right? You gotta be careful. A wise lady once told me that.'

Jay gave him another backhanded whack.

Nick laughed and rubbed his bicep. 'Don't beat me, I'm a delicate flower.'

Jay snorted and punched him again.

'What I mean to say,' Nick continued, reinstating an extreme cockiness, 'is that there should be a wager so it's not a complete waste of my time.'

'A bet?'

'Mm-hm,' Nick replied as he took a sip of his drink.

'What are you prepared to lose, you arrogant so and so?' Jay asked, taking a drag from her cigarette and picking up her drink. Nick had rarely seen a woman dressed in a hoody, smoking and drinking look so classy.

Nick laughed quietly. 'Sorry, I'll stop being a cock shall I?' he said, dropping his pretentious manner.

Jay put her arm around his shoulders and gave him a brief squeeze. 'That'd be great, otherwise I might have to go and get that pool cue and stick it up your arrogant arse.'

'You've got quite the mouth on you when you're out of the office don't you, Miss Valen?' Nick said, nudging her, not failing to notice the fantastic way she rolled the 'r' in 'arse'.

'So?' Jay pressed.

'So what?'

'What are you prepared to lose?'

Nick looked her in the eye and smiled cheekily. 'I think you should really ask yourself what you're willing to give me.'

A small smile played across the lips of the lovely woman sitting next to him. For a moment, sitting dwarfed in Baggo's voluminous hoody, the confident, controlled businesswoman was replaced by a lonely girl who, with all her charisma, charms and beauty, was still starkly in need of something, something genuine that she had not had for quite some time, perhaps ever. She looked so venerable, sitting under the glow of the bright country stars, and so beautiful, that Nick found that his words had stuck in his throat and all he could do was drink her in.

'So, Jay, what are you willing to give?' he asked softly, not wanting to break the bubble that seemed to have encased them in whatever moment this was.

_God, she's lovely_.

She looked at him with those indescribable eyes of hers, raven hair falling across her face, lips shining in the faint glow of the night sky. Without thinking Nick brushed away a strand of hair, unaware that their eyes were locked.

'What would I give?' she breathed.

Nick's fingers traced the curve of her jaw, halting, seemingly of their own accord, below her chin. Tentatively, _fearfully_ even, and so lightly that he wasn't even sure she would have felt it, he brushed his thumb over her bottom lip.

_Don't mess about with the team_, a voice reasoned from the alcohol stewed depths of his brain, but he ignored it. He hadn't felt like this since…

_Naomi…_

Jay closed her eyes and sighed. 'What would I give you?' she said in such a soft voice it was more like Nick had heard her thought.

Jay opened her sapphire eyes, two flawless twin pools shot with stars.

'Anythi-,'

With unimpeachable timing Baggo burst through the door, his motor functions seemingly running on auto-pilot, as his body sought vainly for a horizontal surface on which to prop itself. Evidently, it elected the thin, gravely, stone-pocked path that ran from the front door of the pub to the gate in the fence that surrounded it as a suitable depositing place because, a moment later, Baggo fell seemingly enthusiastically – and rather rashly, Nick thought – face first onto the ground.

Nick couldn't help but wince at the satisfying crunch that heralded the meeting of Baggo's facial features with the stone strewn path.

Jay drew back from Nick, but her eyes remained locked with his. 'Is he okay?' she asked.

'Fine,' he replied without looking at his fallen comrade-turned-traitor, the moronic piss-head who had pretty effectively taken this little, potentially perfect moment and left it unthinkingly on the floor for the dog to eat.

Just in case he hadn't completely shattered the atmosphere that had seemed to encase himself and Jay in the five or so minutes that had just passed, Nick watched as Baggo managed to manoeuvre himself onto all fours before vomiting, with great gusto, onto the path with which he had so recently - and firmly - acquainted himself with. With a final energetic expulsion, Baggo groaned loudly and incoherently, rolled onto his back and fell asleep with a speed that was astounding.

'We better turn him over,' Jay said, tearing her gaze away from Nick's.

Nick felt the tension break, the snapping of an intangible chord of _something_ that fluttered free for a second, a ragged flag in a dying breeze.

'Yeah, I'll do it.'

'Don't kick him if you can help it,' she said as he heaved himself unsteadily to his feet.

Nick heard her smile.

He stood over the prostrate figure on the ground and rolled him onto his side.

'Shall we wake him up?' Jay asked.

'Nah. The dew and sun'll do that.'

When he turned back around she was in the doorway, the light from the bar spilling out through the door.

'You're going?' he blurted.

'It's getting late.'

'Yeah,' he agreed lamely.

_Say something, anything_.

_Do I want to?_

She looked at him and smiled. She was radiant in the soft light.

'I'll see you tomorrow, Nick.'

'Goodnight, Miss Valen,' he replied, the schoolboy smile playing uncontrollably across his lips.

Jay stepped into the warmth of the bar.

'Don't forget,' her voice, floating on the still night air, came from just inside the doorway, 'you owe me a game of pool.'

Only when she was gone did Nick turn and give Baggo a well-earned kick.

'Useless wanker,' he muttered as he stumbled back inside.

It was a slightly frustrating end to a perfect evening. However, as Nick made his way upstairs to his room he couldn't shake the seed of worry that had sown itself in his mind.

Johnny Tan still had to be reckoned with. The man whose eyes Nick had pulled the wool over. Only Baggo had been present in that meeting and Nick had made him swear not to tell the Jay, the Driver or Nick's old man about what had occurred. Nick had deceived Tan and he was, therefore, Nick's problem.

Nick collapsed onto his bed, too drunk to give this pressing issue more than a final thought before he fell asleep. He didn't know how Tan would react to the news that he had been duped, but he did know one thing; Johnny Tan was _not_ going to be a happy bunny.


End file.
